Closer
by illiriahrising
Summary: Fifth in a series of Elizabeth and Ronon vignettes. When Weir opens up to Ronon about a painful part of her past will he be able to trust her with his own? Will circumstances and fear keep them from getting closer?


Summary: Elizabethopens up toRonon about a painful part of her past but will he be able to trust her with his own painful memories? Will circumstancesand fear keep them from getting closer?

Author's Note: This is the 4rd in a series of vignettes/episode tags that I have been writing featuring Elizabeth and Ronon & the growing relationship between the two of them. I like to think that it could be cannon if we were just given a few more minutes before the end credits rolled. 

_Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis and its characters are not mine. They are the property of MGM Studios, The Sci Fi Channel, and Acme Shark. This story was created for entertainment purposes only and no copyright infringement is intended. _

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The sun was sinking lower, its fading rays reaching out like brush strokes painting the sky in soft pastels. She'd spent a lot of summers at her grandparent's house on the shore as a girl and as the sun dipped closer to the horizon in the distance she thought about all the sunsets she and her grandfather had seen from his fishing boat. Her eyes drifted closed for a second and she could picture him there with her, his feet dangling in the water beside hers, his tanned, leathery hands gripping his fishing pole, his Oriols cap pulled low over his forehead. "_If you listen real close, Lizzie… you can hear it sizzle when it hits the water._"

A soft smiled played about her lips as she looked out at the setting sun once more. She listened close, but the only thing she heard was the water lapping at the pier.

Maybe it only worked on the Chesapeake.

Leaning back on her hands she wondered what Grandad would have thought of Atlantis, wondered if she would have found it as easy to leave Earth if she'd had to leave him behind. She imagined what his reaction would have been to this mission- he probably would have tried to wrangle his way onto her team.

It had been a long time since she'd thought of him, it had always been easier not to but now, in this place, somehow she couldn't push the memories away any longer. An empty ache was beginning in her chest- the same ache she'd felt during those first painful days after he'd succumbed to the cancer, when all she'd wanted to do was wrap herself in his old flannel jacket and cry. She felt like that lost young woman again, unsure of what the future held and longing for the safety of the past. Nearly two years in this place…two years and this was the first time she'd longed for home. What made it so bad was that she didn't really have a home back on Earth to long for…not anymore.

The sound of heavy footfalls suddenly reached her ears and she wiped at her teary eyes, before turning, expecting to find John or Rodney or even Carson standing behind her. The ache seemed to dull a little when she looked up and instead found Ronon's weary gaze fixed on her.

"I can go if you want to be alone."

She shook her head, scooting over a bit. "No…it's…it's ok. You're welcome to sit down if you'd like…I actually…well I guess I wouldn't mind some company."

As Ronon settled himself beside her Elizabeth wondered at his seemingly uncanny ability to show up when she was feeling her lowest.

"So, why aren't you on your balcony? Isn't that where you usually go to think?" The question was uttered hesitantly and it surprised her even more than his appearance had. She'd hadn't realized that he paid that much attention to where she did anything.

"I wanted to be closer to the water today." They were both silent for a long moment, then Elizabeth spoke again, not sure why she wanted to share this with him, but somehow knowing she could trust him with it. "Today's my grandfather's birthday. I was thinking about him."

"He's back on Earth?"

She shook her head, a few stray curls lifting in the breeze. "No."

At her reply Ronon's brow furrowed and he turned to face her fully, but before he could ask the question she saw hovering in his eyes she cut him off.

"He died twelve years ago."

"You were close to him." It was a statement, not a question but she nodded anyway.

"I spent most of my summers with him growing up. My parents were always working, always flying off to a symposium or a conference, so when they couldn't be there and I was out of school they'd send me down to stay with him."

"How'd he die?" Coming from anyone else the question might have seemed callus, but somehow coming from a man who had lived his entire life shadowed by death the it seemed appropriate.

"Cancer…he was sick for a long time, but he didn't tell me until things got really bad. By then…there wasn't much time left."

She felt the light pressure of strong fingers on the back of her hand, offering her some small bit of comfort just as he had done on the balcony only a few weeks earlier, and with her eyes still fixed on the waning sun she turned her hand over and threaded her fingers through his. It felt good to have someone to hold onto for a change.

"You're lucky." His words were soft, his voice holding a tremor of wistfulness. "My grandparents were gone long before I was born."

Their lives had been so different and yet, she sensed in him the same loneliness, the same distance she felt in herself at times. She supposed, loss was loss, though, no matter what galaxy you came from and it marked you no matter who you were.

Her fingers tightened around his in a silent thank you and she felt a sad smile tug at her lips. Like Ronon, her grandfather had always lived by his own code and he'd never had a problem expressing his opinion when it mattered. She wished that the two of them could have met. She had a feeling that they would have liked each other.

In the distance the lavenders and pinks of the sunset had darkened and the breeze had grown cooler. "Twilight and evening bell, and after that the dark." Her words were whispered, tinged with melancholy.

Confused, Ronon looked over at her. "I didn't hear a bell."

"No, it's from a poem." She explained, the ache fading a little more as he smiled at his own mistake. "It's about a sailor. It was my grandfather's favorite. He always loved anything that had to do with the sea."

She could feel the sting of tears in her eyes again and decided that changing the subject would be a good idea. "So…you know why I'm out here, what about you?"

Jaw tightening he shrugged. "I was feeling a little caged in."

"Because of your visit with Dr. Heightmeyer?"

At the sudden stiffening of his spine she knew she'd pegged it right. "She didn't tell me anything that you discussed with her. She'd just mentioned that you were supposed to come by today."

"Why did you want me to talk to her?" There was a faint trace of hurt in his voice as he asked the question and she felt the easy companionship they'd been sharing giving way to the uncomfortable uncertainty she usually experienced around him.

"I… I was concerned about what happened during the mission, concerned about…you. I thought that talking about what happened would do you some good." Her fingers flexed beneath his.

"Maybe you're right." He said, gazing down into the fathomless blue below their feet, wondering if he could trust her with his past. "It's not easy for me, though…talking to people."

"You don't seem to have any trouble talking to me."

His ability to sift through what was and wasn't being said had grown rusty after seven years of listening only to himself, so he wasn't sure if she was just making an observation or if she was offering to listen. He looked over at her, his eyes holding hers for a moment before sliding uncomfortably away. "Doctor Heightmeyer's not you."

She wasn't sure how to respond. There'd been something in his eyes when he'd looked at her, something vulnerable and haunted. She wondered if he could trust her enough to share whatever pain he was keeping inside.

"Dr. Weir…You're needed in the gateroom. Major Lorne's team has returned."

She started at the sound of Sergeant Campbell's bright voice in her ear and automatically tapped the button to open the channel on her radio. As she opened her mouth to speak she felt Ronon's fingers slip from hers and he rose quickly from his place beside her.

"Dr. Weir?" The voice in her ear came again and she knew that she had to reply…but she didn't want to. What she wanted to do was keep talking to Ronon. She wanted to find out what he hadn't been able to tell Kate, wanted to let him see that he wasn't alone, but as the Sergeant spoke her name a third time she knew that she couldn't.

"I'm on my way, Sergeant. Tell Major Lorne to meet me in my office."

She stood and turned toward Ronon, but he wasn't beside her anymore. His long strides had taken him halfway across the pier already and she felt the hollow ache in her chest return again. She watched him moving away from her, wishing she could call him back, but she knew that Major Lorne was waiting for her and she wanted to hear what sort of intel he'd picked up on his visit to M8Z-742.

With a frustrated sigh she bent down to pick up her shoes and her eyes fell on a braided piece of leather, one of the many Ronon usually wore on his wrist; it must have fallen off, the ends having grown too frayed to secure it any longer. She snatched it up and turned to call his name but he was already disappearing around the corner of the Eastern tower.

For a long moment she simply stared after him, her finger idly stroking the smooth, warm surface of the bracelet until her radio chirped again. Pocketing the jewelry she slipped her shoes on and headed back to the gateroom. She'd return the bracelet to him later and if there wasn't another crisis demanding her immediate attention, she hoped that maybe he'd be willing to finish their conversation.


End file.
